


Comfortable Silence

by LittleShopOfNina



Series: The Cold Mud [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleShopOfNina/pseuds/LittleShopOfNina
Summary: Friendship isn't about whom you have known the longest...it is about who came, and never left your side.





	1. Chapter 1

“No you didn’t.”

 

“Yes! Honest to god!”

 

“I have a hard time believing that.”

 

Dwight and Jake had been going back and forth like this for what felt like hours. After their awkward admittance of wanting to know more about each other and Jake effectively stealing Dwight’s first kiss, the two decided it was best to get to know each other before exploring anything else. Dwight was a know-it-all with glasses thicker than Jake’s ego, and either of them had miles to travel to truly understand things about the other. Dwight was determined to learn Jake’s last name by the end of the night, but was equally dead set on learning more about Jake’s life. About why he was so stoic. About why he was so emotionless. About why he was so enthralling.

 

“I’m sorry, Jake. But I have a hard time believing you lived in an estate.” Dwight shook his head at the other. Dwight wasn’t an expert on economic classes, but Jake definitely wasn’t from money like he was insisting.

 

Jake and Dwight’s hands were still tightly wound while they conversed, eyes lighting up like Christmas lights with laughter. It was a good look for Jake; his brown eyes were always so cold and solitary. The mere tint of pure bliss made them cautiously welcoming. “I did! My dad was a lieutenant, and my mom was a surgeon! Why’s that so hard for you to imagine, man?”

 

“Because--!!” Dwight usually spoke with his hands. Using both of them without letting go of Jake’s, he made a list in the air of reasons why he didn’t believe Jake. “You are shaggy! You don’t have that rich-kid attitude! You probably have never eaten caviar before, and you wear clothes from a thrift store!!”

 

“Well, I didn’t know you were a sociology professor when you weren’t delivering pizzas.”

 

Dwight and Jake were bantering back and forth like they’d known each other all their lives. Their cheeks would be sore in the morning from all their laughing and boyish smiles, and they weren’t going to sleep any time soon. 

 

In this strange reality they were now a part of, both Jake and Dwight knew that kind of stuff would never happen. There never was an “in the morning”. Their times of day were early night, night, and late night. Any time they slept, it never seemed they woke up. Dwight was always the last one to lie down for a rest, so he knew it better than anyone. When the others would turn in, Dwight would watch each of them carefully. Whether they laid there for five minutes or five hours they never seemed to fall asleep. It was merely lying down with closed eyes. Meg shifted positions constantly. Claudette’s eyes were fluttering to solve whatever equation her brain was stuck on. Jake tapped either his fingers or his feet restlessly; just as frustrated as his new friends. It wasn’t until Dwight went to bed that all four of them fell asleep in tandem, just to wake up in one of nine scenes they’d woken up to before. They never felt a physical hunger or any other human need, but sleep was the only one they could consciously acknowledge. It was a puzzle. If all four pieces were plugged in and ready to sleep, a switch seemed to flip and all four fell into a daze at once; and woke up together. Dwight didn’t like thinking about what happened when they all woke up. So he swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on how thankful he was that they’d never truly fall asleep; thankful that they were mostly in charge of when these things happened. This was a dream to Dwight, and he wasn’t the only one not ready to wake up.

 

“Well, were you the only kid in this fancy mansion?” He used air quotes.

 

Jake’s laughter was contagious, and he actually snorted a little. Coming from the man who’s ideal day was spent with nobody but himself, Dwight almost thought the laugh came from someone else. It simply didn’t match. Somehow, it warmed his heart and soothed his wound that much more. If Jake’s gravelly giggle was low and rough like his appearance, Dwight might have begun to understand how he stayed so well hidden. “Yep. I was an only child, so the Park Estate was my personal domain. No older siblings to get me in trouble, and no little ones to steal all that caviar I must have been eating.”

 

“Park?” Dwight practically interrupted. A sense of triumph flooded to his head.

 

Jake wasn’t lying about any of his past, nor did he plan to. Dwight seemed to be genuinely interested unlike the other two, and the leader’s companionship was something Jake didn’t know he craved. 

 

The recluse was an only child born into the military and medical fields. Both were demanding jobs, and often left Jake by himself. Most of his early childhood memories weren’t things like learning to ride a bike or even family vacations, nothing of notable signs of affection. His memories consisted of visits to elaborate and nouveau riche houses, the loud pop! of champagne bottles without celebration, and sitting on the couch wondering when mom or dad would come home for dinner. Jake didn’t know the loving and tender care that went into a homemade meal because he had never had one. While he wished Dwight’s teasing was just that, it wasn’t. Jake had lived on a diet of foods he couldn’t pronounce, made by people he never knew. Jake’s family was definitely wealthy, and that was a tough title to uphold. His father had been a stern man. The kind that would break out the belt for sneezing during a Moment of Silence. His father was the kind of man that was proud to have a son, but was never satisfied with just one. Medically, Jake’s mother wasn’t able to bear another -Jake was a miracle birth- and that was a great source of tension in their hodge-podge family. Had Jake’s mother been around more, he would have sympathized and actually stood up for her. This frustration led his father to constantly pressure Jake, tormenting him for anything he did wrong rather than helping him learn. It was almost a compensation act on Jake’s part; making up for being the only child. The stoic face wasn’t an act for the saboteur, as he never showed it bothered him. Poker Face at all times, he supposed.

 

“Yeah. Daddy and Mommy were your typical rich pricks.” For a moment, all their laughing stopped and Dwight tuned in to his friend, taken aback by the sudden sharpness. Jake’s voice was calm spirited like it always was but it had the slightest hint of resentment. Dwight didn’t dare interrupt this time. “They weren’t ever really home. I knew their jobs were really demanding, but we never really did anything together. We went to Asia a few times, but it was always for work or visiting mom’s family. The ‘Mystery of the Orient’ was pretty anticlimactic.” As he spoke, the gleam in his eyes completely disappeared. “Dad was a real hardass, wanted me to go into medicine like mom, but that wasn’t me.” A small frown danced across his lips and he motioned to Dwight’s bandage. “I mean, I only know how to do that because of Claudette. I...uh...flunked out of college.”

The air was getting cold again, and something pushed the two males to sit with their shoulders touching. It warmed either of them up almost instantly, but Dwight still shivered in his short-sleeves. “After that, mom and dad kicked me out. I didn’t exactly have a lot of friends because mom was convinced they were out for my money.” Jake’s mother was slightly more easygoing than his father, but that wasn’t saying much. Where Jake’s dad was crass and rough and tough, she was quiet, anxious, and restless. Jake never saw her sit down. She was always up and about, keeping her mind busy with various trinkets and accessories she’d buy and never wear. Her personality was anything but maternal. She hardly knew her son, but was dead hard on controlling every aspect of his life and going postal when it didn’t go to her plan.

 

“I,” Jake shrugged as he came back to his senses. “...had to live on my own in the woods. I had a tent and everything, but I was homeless.” His fingers tightened on Dwight’s and he tucked his mouth into his scarf. For once, Jake seemed to let his guard down. Those slanted eyes darkened like the sky and he was glued to every part of Dwight that was touching him. “Being here is a relief though.” Their hands squeezed again. 

 

Dwight was about to ask just how crazy he had to be to think that.

 

“I at least have friends here.”


	2. Chapter 2

What was Dwight supposed to say in this moment? There were no hints or tips, and while he generally had a good gut-feeling, he was completely lost. Dwight barely knew how to interact in social situations. For crying out loud he didn’t close his eyes when he was kissed just minutes ago!! He had the social skills of an old, lonely man! The brunet tried his best to swallow a breath and compose himself to respond to his friend. Anything was better than silence. Jake had been through what sounded like hell and back, and Dwight could only ever imagine what that was like. In a way he was gracious for Jake’s upbringing because that very cheerlessness is what brought them together. However it was incredibly shallow and awful for Dwight to admit and even say he benefited from. The stress that Jake had confided was something Dwight had never known and he felt egomaniacal for almost comparing it to his own.

 

Dwight’s life had been much more “American” and wholesome, overall less complicated. He wasn’t sure if it was Jake’s familial culture that he was held to high standards, but all he could do was hold the man’s hand tighter as an offering of empathy. It sounded like he was used to being called a failure, and that was something Dwight could relate to. The rest? He simply didn’t know what to do. Or what to say. “Jake, I uh..” It was not his best line, but roused the stoic man to raise one of his bushy caterpillar eyebrows. “I’m sorry.” He really was.

 

“Meh,” Jake shrugged, regaining his composure and throwing aside what made him seem gloomy. “That was years ago. What about you? Shoved in lockers and beat up after school?”

 

Although he didn’t want to, Dwight laughed. “Basically, yeah.”

 

Dwight’s life had been average at best. He came from a broken family, which was common and set him apart from his male friend, and was of average intelligence and social standing. “I didn’t know my dad, so I lived with my mom and my sister Deb.” His older sister was the shining star of the family, complete with elegance and grace like a princess. She, like Meg, was a determined athlete; born with all the courage Dwight was missing. He could barely define those words used to describe his sister, let alone serve as their meaning. “Mom, me and Deb lived in this tiny house in a cul-de-sac. It was two bedrooms, so Deb and I ended up sharing one. I didn’t know what “privacy” was until I was about thirteen.” Dwight’s family was of an average income with his mother being the sole income of two children. “The only privacy I got was when I would hog the bathroom so I could pee in peace.”

 

The two shared a laugh but Dwight’s was louder than Jake’s. It had been enough to make Dwight sit forward and temporarily forget about the throbbing of his wound, but not enough to make him realize the strain he was realistically putting on it. 

 

“I shared everything with Deb. Clothes, school supplies, soap.” Dwight wrinkled his nose to adjust his glasses. “So I got made fun of at school. A lot.”

 

“Did you at least have your own bed?” Jake sat at an angle to talk to Dwight. His hoodie was thick and lined with a thermal coating, but that didn’t stop the jagged tree bark from chomping little bits of his back. He didn’t know how Dwight did it.

 

Still leaning against the jagged tree, Dwight dropped his head back to stare at what bits of the ink sky showed through the thick canopy of leaves. “Yeah. I had my own bed.” The thought of something so simple….a bed…. _his_ bed...something so simple was something he missed the most. Right now his ‘bed’ was a ‘bed’ only by the idea that it was where he slept. As of late, anyone who slept somewhere that wasn’t in a pit of cold mud fashioned a mattress out of various leaves and a few twigs. The four had bounced around ideas to make the most comfortable place for them to relax independently, but the sole winner so far was Meg’s lucky find of a trashbag she filled with leaves. Rather than jealousy, Dwight felt joy for her. It had been his idea to fill the trashbag with the leaves to create a pillow, and sometimes she would share the fruit of her deed with him.

 

“I miss my bed.” Jake seemed to be on the same wavelength as Dwight; eerily able to read his mind.

 

“Shit.” The swear word from Dwight seemed as far-fetched as Jake’s laughter. “Me, too.”

 

It was amazing how much they took for granted being stuck in this purgatory. Dwight craved his bed. Meg missed socializing with her friends. Claudette wondered who was going to water her plants. Jake missed hot meals. Not that he ever knew any, but dammit did Jake want to know what it was like, so he could properly miss them. 

 

Dwight could sense some sort of emotional recession from Jake. There was something disheartening about the solitary way he sunk his scraggly face into his scarf, like the whole ‘family’ subject was the cause. While Dwight was not the best with his people skills, he was able to realize that this was almost a tick of Jake’s..like he had too much of something. He decided he would spare his life story. It was at this point that Dwight finally released their hands and it caused Jake to look up with a startled look, like someone had snapped in his ears. “Did you ever eat pizza when you were at home?”

 

The bushy haired man shook his head. “Dairy problems.”

 

“So I should save the cheesy pickup lines?”

 

It was the millionth laugh they shared. This one was just as sweet as the other nine hundred thousand they had shared tonight, but this one was much more explosive. It was a million firecrackers in the sky, alerting everyone within their radius. Their faces went from frozen and pale to bright red and warm. Their hands roamed back to the other’s in the clayish soil they sat in, just focusing on the other. The way the gazed, staring at every little feature as though it were under a microscope, made it look like the first time they’d met. Dwight counted every chocolate freckle subtly littered Jake’s nose and found comfort in how his hand was swallowed whole by the other. Jake’s eyes were narrowed as they always were, but he couldn't seem to tear them away from the sloppy butchering of Dwight’s mustache; like no one ever properly taught him how to shave. 

 

The silence that formed between them was more comfortable than any bed.


	3. I'll Try My Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can you spell "filler"? :D  
> actual substance coming soon
> 
> and by soon I mean early next week

Cold air and frozen soil were never welcoming to any situation. In fact, most people with any kind of common sense would argue that it ruined a moment. Right now, Dwight and Jake had little to no common sense, so they were the select few that would consider these unpleasantries to be mere annoyances at best. 

 

Had it not been for the cold air and the equally icy mud, the two would have just been sitting on either sides of a log, barely acknowledging that the other was even breathing. Once in a while that was the routine, though they had grown more familiar as their nights wore on. The first few nights any of them had found themselves in this purgatory, no one even looked at another. But now, an immeasurable amount of time later, everyone had broken through that initial shyness and formed a shroud of unity. This unity was greater than the sum of its parts; where everyone pulled a different weight without complaint.

 

This unity is what led Dwight and Jake back to their makeshift settlement. The fire was beginning to burn out, which explained why Meg was missing. The redhead always managed to keep the fire at a knee height, so it was obvious she was most likely collecting sticks. Aside from the slightly dimmed fire, nothing else was out of the ordinary. The clearing of trees allowed the black sky to pour into the vast opening and create an emotional discomfort. None of their seats were touched, which promised that when they sat down, their bottoms would stick like a tongue to a flagpole. Happy to be returning home, Dwight and Jake walked with their hands in their filthy pockets. Jake had his gloves back, and Dwight’s glasses were crooked like always. Much like their time in this endless mist, their smiles were intense and never-ending. It was a change of pace and atmosphere among the constant anxiety of death...and it was...well….nice. It was very nice.

 

Upon arrival, before both of their feet could be flat on the ground, Claudette seemingly appeared out of thin air with a militia of questions.

 

“Where have you two been? What were you doing?! Is everything okay?”

 

“Claudette,” Dwight’s amused tone did not unfurrow her brow or even unfold her arms. She seemed somewhere between worried and annoyed, which never was a good thing. As Dwight spoke, he could have sworn her gaze turned him to stone. “I just had a little scrape and Jake fixed it up for me...” Dwight’s voice gradually became tremulous and unsteady. There was no way she was going to let it go. This was Claudette after all.

 

This was Claudette, after all.

 

In an instant, the small statured woman’s face twisted to an expression both boys had seen more times than they could count. Behind the thick lenses of her glasses, Claudette’s eyes narrowed like a mother’s when her child would misbehave, with one brown hand coming up to the her cheek. Slowly, her fingers drummed a quiet beat and her other hand fiddled with the top of her neon belt. “Let me check.”

 

What? What were they going to do?! Oh, god. She was sure to chew into Dwight with pearly white teeth and give him a lecture so sharp that his wound would take a back burner to his lying.

 

Well, Jake figured, they were already this deep in.

 

A thin line and audible gulp came across Dwight, but Jake thankfully took the reigns of the situation. “Claudy, it really was nothing.” Lies. Jake patted Dwight’s shoulder which was supposed to help the tension, but it did the exact opposite. “You know how Dwight is.” Jake laughed in a staggered succession that made even the stern Claudette smile, and things began to pull themselves off the hook. “He got out of a locker too quick and just got cut on the latch. It really was nothing.” Another lie; this one almost offensive.

 

Still, she persisted. Claudette prided herself on being a motherly figure to the two of them, teaching them everything they knew about caring for themselves, though she was growing slightly resentful. With the “motherly” aura came a disgruntled and defiant teen. Lucky her, she had two. Two boys, even! But with a smile that tugged both of her hands to her hips and cocked her head downward, she tightened her jaw. “Can I at least see it? Maybe there was somet--,”

 

“Claudette!” Her irritation was visibly rubbing off on the introvert. He needed her to just…..fucking listen to him. “I need you to just fucking listen to me.” His tone was anything but belligerent, but it was uncomfortably firm. Both Dwight and Claudette winced. No matter what Claudette, Dwight or even Meg could teach him, they could not teach basic human communication skills. He was as persistent as their botanical “mother” was being, though both Dwight and Jake knew it was just that she cared. “I mean…” he tried to speak but was reprimanded in the blink of an eye.

 

“Language.” Dwight had been silent, but finally spoke up. It was the least he could do, considering this entire conversation was about him.

 

Jake tried again. “I mean..” A sigh. “It was barely even a cut. Mostly a bruise. You showed me how to patch all that stuff up...do you not believe me?”

 

“I know that, but Jake, I just want to make sure you did it right…”

 

A light bulb went off in Jake’s head, though his expression remained dim. “How am I going to make sure I know it if you hold my hand the whole time?”

 

Though he had a very valid point, which Claudette seemed to recognize as she began to back down, this was slowly turning into an argument. There was rightfully a reason for it to be escalating because what the woman wanted was simple, but things would hit the fan if she found out that they not only lied to her, but lied to her twice. The cut was bigger than just a bruise, and she really should have looked at it…

 

“Fine.” One word from a woman was not a good sign in either man’s history log, but the look of stoic excitement they shot each other almost made them blow their cover. “Fine. You are right. I….trust you.” A sigh bigger than Claudette left her lips and she put her hands up in a defensive motion. One of two things just happened. Either she was convinced, or she was giving up. As much as it would stroke his semi-arrogant ego, Jake believed they convinced her. But the realist Dwight knew she was too tired to fight them.

 

They were all too tired.

 

Dejectedly, Claudette stretched tall. “Just….if you need me...I’ll be over there. Okay?” Claudette lingered a minute after she spoke, waiting to see if either man would admit anything new. She wasn’t a dumb woman. The two were as guilty as twins stealing cookies before supper, and thicker than thieves. She picked up on the improvisational excuse, but was far too drained to pursue it. Rather than anger, she felt disappointed. When she returned to her post by the fire, her posture was uncharacteristically slumped and she hugged her knees to her chest. Sitting there alone, Dwight felt his heart fall to his stomach. All the woman wanted to do was help him...

 

What was this feeling? Jake seemed to be prideful, but that was nowhere near what Dwight felt. He felt low. Like he cheated on a test. Like a burnt a customer’s pizza. Like he lied to a woman who was merely trying to make sure he was okay. “Do you lie a lot?”

 

Jake just rolled his eyes. They had stumbled over to their log which was a few yards from where Claudette gargoyled by the fire and they both sat down. “It worked, didn’t it?” Somewhere between their laughing and lying, dark bags formed under Jake’s almond eyes. When they sat, Jake slumped into himself with a ‘huff’. First Claudette...and now Jake. Was there something in the air that made them suddenly so drowsy? Why wasn’t it hitting Dwight? What about Meg? Had she fallen over somewhere and taken a nap? “Look, four-eyes, she would have flipped if she saw that…” he yawned, reaching for Dwight’s hand. It was a familiar gesture, but it somehow stung this time. It felt like Dwight’s hand was thrown into the fire lighting their camp, yet he held on. The brunet didn’t know why.

 

What was this selfishness…? This dark eyed jerk wasn’t the same man who kissed Dwight a moment ago, and no amount of physical exhaustion made the leader think it was okay. “She was just checking on us. It’s what friends do.”

 

Agitation. That was the word Dwight was looking for.

 

“Are you saying I’m not your friend?” Jake’s tone was sharp like a splinter, and had the smallest undertone of annoyance.

 

“Jake…” Dwight’s free hand adjusted his glasses before running a hand through his hair. Shit...it was hitting him too. His eyelids began to droop as though they were melted butter and weighed close to a ton. For the first time in what felt like hours, Dwight’s radiating pain returned and his face screwed in realization. The flaming discomfort was nowhere near as intense as pre-bandaging, though it was close. A sharp sting ran up his spine like an electrical current, and he could swear his muscles were being peeled from the bone. He adjusted his posture to accommodate the wound but caught no mercy. “Look...we are just tired, okay? I am sorry I snapped.” But… “But..we shouldn’t have lied to her.”

 

Jake combed a hand into Dwight’s hair, too, offering an altruistic grin. It was small, as the pull on his eyes prevented too much expression. “It isn’t like I wanted to. But she is too tired to be taking care of that right now..”

 

“Look at you.” Dwight’s pain faded long enough for him to tease. “Thinking about other people for once.”

 

“Ew. You’re rubbing off on me.”

 

Too tired to respond, Dwight shifted restlessly to keep himself awake. The focus shifted to waiting on Meg; she never was gone this long, was she? How long did it take to find sticks? God….Dwight hoped she was okay. “I am gonna go see if I can’t find Meg,” before he could stand up, Jake rose. 

 

“You stay here. I’ll do it.”

 

Usually Dwight would bicker back, but there was nothing left in him at this point. Having lost so much blood that his shirt was a new color combined with a disrupted circadian rhythm, the pizzman had no objections as he adjusted himself on the log. It was far from comfortable, but it was better than the alternative.

 

“Be safe….okay?”

 

Jake’s answer was a simple peck to Dwight’s spastic hairline. Dwight leaned into it like his lips were a pillow for his weary head, and Jake could have sworn he heard him hum. The pale man’s forehead was beaded with sweat and Jake made a mental note to check on it later. Either he was developing a fever from his gash, or he was just his normal self. God...he hoped it was the latter. “Try to stay up until I get back.” As their sleeping pattern (or lack thereof) was, there was no way he wouldn’t be, but it was domestic tick. Dwight nodded.

 

“Tell Meg to bring me a blanket.” Another yawn, and his face was white from either blood loss or the cold snap in the air. Never had Jake seen the man so weak and defeated; not even when he had a meat hook pierced through a dainty shoulder.

 

“I’ll try my best, hon.” And with that, he was off in the trees looking for their missing athlete.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where the heck meg go

_‘Will these burn?’_

 

This was one of the hundreds of thoughts buzzing around Meg’s head right now. A few others were wondering about the quality of the twigs she was picking up, but that one was drowned out by the sense of urgency to return to the others.She was alone out here. The only company she had was the occasional crow who’s wings would flap a cold dew above her head, accompanied by a gust of wind subtle enough to make her think it was a hand grazing across her back. Rays of iridescent moonlight filtered through the rotting canopy, penetrating through what was left of the leaves and casting an unearthly murk over the ground. The athlete had the slightest clue as to what would prolong the life of their dwindling fire, but knew she was to follow the simple instruction given to her. “Collect sticks”. It was a simple task. After all, sticks were sticks, right? Wood would burn regardless of how big or how small it was? The ginger had never been on a full fledged camping trip, but as she collected every little bit of tree she came past, her confidence somehow renewed itself.

 

Her freckled arms were folded across her flat chest while her pile of twigs grew. The mud she walked on was soft and malleable like it had recently rained, though it smelled of something slighlty more foul. The curled carcesses the dead plants were embedded in the soil, and even in their original state, Meg couldn’t tell a leaf from a flower. There seemed to be no sign of life left in this desolate shroud, and the redhead knew better than to wish for any. What was now cold and unforgiving was their home whether they wanted it to be or not.

 

Thankfully, the twigs she was bundling like a baby in her arms didn’t smell anything like the mud. Meg happily hugged them, and for a moment, felt a relief like when she would hug her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was an athlete like herself, but was a baseball star rather than track. The details of how they met were lost to a crowded and sweaty college locker room, but she knew he was something special despite his grades. His name was Tommy, and he was the kind of kid who was in college because his parents told him to be. He didn’t care about his grades as much as he did baseball, and never hesitated to buy tickets to the stadium. He came from money and had no work ethic, so Meg benefitted from the numerous cards burning a hole in his wallet. Tommy wasn’t Meg’s first love, and wasn’t bound to be the last, but she was much more wrapped up in the moment to admit that. His arms were almost as big as her entire frame with all the practice he had to endure, and this was to make up for being comically shorter than Meg. Occasionally the runner’s ego would lead her to torment her shorter lover, but it always ended in playful fights that left them laughing and relishing the time they had together. Butterflies rustled in her at the thought of how warm it was when his arms would engulf her, even though the memory was growing more and diluted.

 

The soft crunch of the branches against her chest made her feel wistful. It reminded her of the summer days she would spend with Tommy. They would watch the stars. They would go swimming. They would just sit and do nothing. Her head dropped back to look up at the umbrella of dying leaves, disappointed that they didn’t provide any emotion. They were a faded, shredded tapestry of autumn. She thought she remembered the crisp golden hues and the vibrant oranges that had blanketed the forest floor the last time she had visited it, though it was a lie she had created. This lie brought no warmth to the bitter chill.

 

She shuddered into her pink puffer vest, wishing she had chosen something warmer. It was a strange place she found herself in she thought, as she added another twig to the pile. This place was the last thing she wanted to see and was almost like a scene out of a dystopian novel. The black sky, the barren trees, and even the sounds of crows and insects all sent a chill down her spine. Freckled arms held the twigs tighter.

 

_‘Whoo-weep!’_

 

A loud whistle startled the athlete, and she whipped her head around so fast her braid almost smacked her in the face. Before she could call back, an ominous shape cleared through the vined shrubbery to smile at her. All she could make out were slanted eyes, yellow like the moon, staring back at her eagerly. Broad shouldered and covered in all the nature it had cut through, Meg’s heart began to beat hard. It slammed against her ribcage with enough vigor to make her nauseous as though she had just run another marathon. If this shape so much as reached a hand out, she was in perfect distance to be met with the other side of a sharp knife. Something began to protrude her way and all her weight shifted to the ball of her left foot. Meg was ready to drop her collection of sticks and bolt to safety. It extended her way; it was….it was….”Jake?” Somewhere between relieved and insulted, Meg’s stride turned towards him with a loud sigh. 

 

“You hadn’t come back, so I was, er,” their arms both extended towards the other and he took a chunk of her twigs. “..sent to get ‘ya.”

 

“Pfft.” The smarmy woman carried herself with a cocky poise. “I wasn’t lost or anything.”

 

Laughing with her, Jake raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Whatever you say, freckles. Let’s head back.” He jerked a gloved thumb behind him.

 

Parting her dull lips to reveal conversely gleaming teeth, Meg’s spine soothed. “That sounds rad.”


	5. Update!!

Hi everyone! Let me just take a minute to announce two things.

1\. I am a fraction of the way through the next chapter featuring Claudette and ya boy Dwight. I have been working 40+ hours a week and have been SWAMPED. D;

2\. I am so thankful for the support and love this story has gotten, and I honestly couldn't be any more thankful. I hope everyone enjoys reading this drab as much as I do writing it, and I hope you keep checking back! My plan is to have it out by next weekend/early next week. THANK YOU! <3

Please leave me something in the comments to read and reply to, because I need some positivity in my life right now. Whether it is ideas, critiques, or just a knock knock joke, I would love to hear anything from anyone!!

Thanks!!

Nina.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwight _didn't want_ a lot of things to happen.

Back at the fire Dwight and Claudette sat feet away from each other, as painfully awkward as a school dance. Neither of them had the energy to say much, nor were willing to. The only sounds that forced their way into the thin air were the occasional crack of a flame or caw of a crow. The sky was black like ink, littered with white specks of paint that made oblong shapes and designs Claudette had learned at her university years ago.

 

There were a handful of nights she’d explain in great detail the designs the stars made, and what they symbolized, but tonight her lips were glued together. Claudette’s eyes fluttered closed from the dry, withered stump, and she found a moment’s rest. Internally she smiled, allowing herself to soak in the energy radiating from the fire. This was the only warmth she could feel anymore, so the young woman soaked in what she could. She inhaled the whispering hisses, sizzling pops, and took a whiff of the thick, intoxicating smell of musky smoke and pine needles. Thin like a bird, her legs were pulled to her chest and she fiddled with the loose frays of her denim jeans. Her fingers wrapped around the fine strands of fabric and gave them a test pull; not to her surprise, they plucked off very easily. Like the riding boots they were tucked into, her jeans had seen better days; as had her glasses. They were perpetually crooked like she’d fallen asleep in them, and the plastic frames cheap paint peeled and chipped. She constantly had to wrinkle her nose to adjust them, as the part that held on to her ears had been through so much wear and tear that it held on by a thread. If the woman so much as turned her head too fast they could fly off her small face and leave her tired eyes blinking rapidly to adjust. There was always an exhaustion from surveillance behind the thin lenses that sat crookedly on her nose, and it differed from the man sitting across from her. 

 

While Claudette’s expression was drooping and sagging, Dwight’s was awake and taut. Though he’d been living in these woods for some time now and knew every rock and tree and creature, something about tonight made it seem alarmingly new. Something about tonight was causing the hairs on his neck to stand on sweaty ends. Something about tonight was causing his stomach to do somersaults worse than any flu he’d ever had. Something about tonight was just… _off_.

 

_It’s Jake._

 

The overwhelming thought of the tanned, toned, and charmingly scruffy man was enough to make Dwight’s lips pull in opposite directions towards his ears until they were chapped. His eyes faded to a solid dishwater color, and his pale cheeks flushed with the slightest hint of scarlet. This gesture was important to not mistake with a smile, because Dwight _didn’t want it to be_ a smile. 

 

He _didn’t want_ it to be a smile. He _didn’t want_ it to be because of Jake. He _didn’t want_ it to be because of how warm Jake’s hand was when it would engulf his. And he damn sure _didn’t want_ to be sitting just inches away from Claudette, who was being uncharacteristically cold.

 

“It sure is cold tonight,” Dwight offered towards the icy situation, predicting that it wouldn’t spark much from her.

 

Without so much as blinking at the flames cracking toward her face, Claudette just lifted her shoulders up and then down. It stung like a whip and seared Dwight across the chest enough that he actually winced.

 

This wasn’t her usual sympathetic and compassionate tone, Dwight knew that, so he tensed his shoulders up to his ears. Sitting next to the perched woman wasn’t the worst thing in the world because Claudette was inherently ambivalent and predictable. What caused a lump in his throat was that Claudette seemed upset. Genuinely perturbed to the point of sullen behavior. Did she know he and Jake lied to her? Was she just lonely? The brunet offered more petty conversation about the weather and their lives before this realm, though he was lucky to get more than four words out of her any given time. Any other time he asked about her hobbies or interests, her bubbly tone would ramble off some scholastic things he didn’t understand. She’d go on about plants, gardening, or her job at the lab cross-breeding grapes and blueberries for the perfect parfait, but tonight Dwight would have thought she was a brand new camper. Currently, the only thing the pizza boy wanted more than Claudette to acknowledge him was for one of the others to return. Anything to dilute this silence.

 

“Geeze..” He offered, now on his sixth attempt. “Meg and Jake sure are taking their time…!”

 

Finally, she spoke. And it took Dwight so far aback that he almost didn’t notice she’d replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with him.” Where he expected a silver tongue was a curt and distant sigh. 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Feelings are such a delicate thing in a friendship. They can be happy and cheery as two pals sit around a fire and laugh away their woes with stories and s'mores. They can be calm and serene as mindlessly carrying sticks back to a fire. Or they can be kicked and damaged like lying about one’s own well being for the sake of another kiss. The latter was never something one should do, but Dwight had. He realized this, and also just how stupid his response was. And with the way Claudette finally uncoiled like a butterfly out of it’s cocoon, Dwight’s eyes squinted in preparation of her verbal assault.

“You told me you were fine,” finally she looked at Dwight. He wished he was careful what he had asked for because he realized he _didn’t want_ this. Her Medusa-like glare didn’t turn him to stone, but he was praying it was; that he would just freeze right here and now and this whole situation would be avoided again. Screaming and yelling had never been Claudette’s manner. She always spoke with an intelligent eloquence that made her wise beyond her years. She didn’t raise her voice, shout, or even sneer her upper lip as she looked at Dwight. The botanist frowned and slumped her shoulders in a desperate and submissive whimper. Without an ounce of anger in her voice, her tone was practically pleading. She entreated him with an anxious whimper as she looked him all over. “You told me you were fine. But you and Jake lied to me.” Had the sun been shining in this eerie wasteland, Dwight would have seen the way her eyebrows curved upside down to form a wrinkle between them. A bony finger began to point his way, pinpointing the blame on him and weighing his shoulders down. Her finger poked his chest hard with every word she spoke at him, and he almost thought she would bruise him. She didn’t seem to care much about the gash still bleeding on his lower half. “Did your boyfriend even clean it out?” Claudette demanded. “And please don’t lie to me again, Dwight.” Her tone was so hopeless and distraught that she was curling back into herself, Dwight swore she was so upset that she could cry. Honestly? He’d rather her be mad and screaming at him. Not expressing verbally and emotionally how distressed she was about a friend lying to her.

 

“I’m sorry,” he wasn’t apologizing, but begging pardon. “My….boyfriend? You mean--,” _Gulp_. He felt like he was going to be sick just thinking about it. “Jake?! Claudette, it’s not like that! He just--,”

 

“So kissing is just a new way to say ‘hello’?”

 

Shit.

 

“Yeah...he cleaned it out.” At this point, it was easier than saying, _”Jake isn’t my boyfriend, he just kissed me because he wanted to and I didn’t really want him to_ not _do it, but I promise we aren’t dating or even romantic.”_ For one, it was a lie. And for two, it was too long to say.

 

“Did he?” True to her scientific nature, Claudette was prepared with questions that Dwight wasn’t sure he had the answer to. His education didn’t stretch any further than high school, and he constituted a bandaid as sufficient prevention against infection. Claudette picked up on the way he shuffled his bottom in the mud, embarrassed that he didn’t have the same level of education as her, so she tried a smoothing smile and patted his arm. “Did he put anything in it to clean out the bacteria? Was there peroxide in the kit?” She said nothing more of what Jake and Dwight did under the tree, as it took a backburner to the situation at hand.

 

“He spit on it..”

 

“ _Spit?_ ” He could hear the shock in her voice. Before Dwight could say anything more, Claudette rambled over him. “It works,” the two exchanged a laugh.

Begrudgingly complimenting Jake’s work after minutes passed of examining Dwight’s wound, Claudette felt more like herself. She traded a stabbing finger for a youthful smile. She was sitting more like a human than a bird. She asked Dwight about what exactly happened under the tree. But the most notable was that she had slipped into a lecture of why spit could be used as an antiseptic agent in a pinch, but noted that they should have still asked for her help regardless.

 

~

 

After what felt like a year, the two began to casually converse.

 

“What did you think about it? Was it your first time?” The plant enthusiast sat a few feet away, balanced with her palms behind her and head dropped to the side.

 

Dwight couldn’t lie again. “....ah, yes.” All over again his head was fuzzy and he began to sweat like a chicken found by a wolf. It was embarrassing to admit after all. His first kiss was years overdue, and with another _guy_ , even. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Claudette’s melodic voice soothed. “I’m not saying anything like that. I’m glad you two are happy. Meg was very curious to know what was happening, but despite me telling her to mind her own business, she told me all about it.”

 

A nervous laugh escaped paper thin lips and barred teeth. “We..aren’t anything. It was just an awkward thing and it is said, and done, and over with. Besides, a good-looking thing like him wouldn’t go for a guy with glasses.”

 

The botanist laughed alongside her fellow four-eyes and adjusted her own frames. “I know what you mean. I got made fun of.”

 

“A lot,” the two said in unison.

 

Peering around to make sure the mentioned man wasn’t around, searching extra hard in the shrubbery, Claudette leaned in to Dwight so close that he could smell her strangely pepperminty breath. “So...do you...like him? Has he tried anything else? ”

 

Backed into having to support his weight on his palms out behind him, Dwight began to sink into the mud under him. Since when had his lovelife been on public display? Between Claudette and Meg, even his romantic thoughts would be detailed on an itemised list in front of his eyes!! But..it did feel enthralling to talk about.. “I mean, no, but I honestly think we are all reading too much into it..--,”

 

“He didn’t?!” A roaring laugh almost shook the trees behind them, and Claudette and Dwight both jumped which extinguished the flame of curiosity that Dwight was currently being burnt by. “What a square!!” 

 

The voice belonged to Meg they could deduce in a fraction of a second, and she had Jake in tow, laughing alongside her with a face red like a cherry. Before looking over and seeing the chubby pizza boy with a crack in the left lens of his glasses, Jake laughed too. “Meg, c’mon! Leave the kid alone!” The athlete and saboteur had each had a dozen sticks and wasted no time adding them to the fire with a childlike laziness that disgruntled either of the two glasses-wearers. Claudette’s was from Meg’s carelessness in dropping the twigs like they were a hot potato whereas Dwight’s was curious about the conversation they’d been having.

 

Claudette began to ramble something off to Meg that she needed to be careful, because the flames could have cracked and gotten someone’s face, but the ginger was too busy yawning to even pretend to pay attention. Meg’s fit of giggles had begun to die down as she removed and untangled the single braid running down her back, exposing a dirty and somewhat silky sea of orange that Claudette made work of. With her hair down, it exposed the single ounce of femininity about Meg which softened her cocky confidence. Her hair reached just between her shoulderblades, but had it not had the slight curl of being tied back, it would have reached down her spine. Claudette’s hands wove expertly in and out of the athlete’s locks like she were a seamstress, and began twisting them this way and that in a pattern that was too complex for the males to understand. It was strange that the two women had befriended each other so naturally because it was a strong and glaring contrast. In school, Meg preyed on nerds like Claudette to do her assignments, and nerds like Claudette sought protection from powerhouses like Meg. Dwight and Jake weren’t so much opposites as they were complimentary, though it was still strange.

 

Speaking of strange….

 

Jake had silently found a familiar seat next to Dwight, who was as tight lipped and tightly wound as always.It was like a rod was shoved up his spine because he sat straight up, hands firmly tucked in his crossed legs and gaze trained on anything but Jake. The thought of sitting so close to the other made his stomach flip and flop; and not just because it was lacerated.

 

Brushing the man’s behavior into an afterthought, Jake scooted close enough that their knees touched. “I uh…” olive colored hands scratched at the creatively bushy hair that Dwight imagined felt like a million pillows. “...couldn’t find’ya a blanket…” He knew Dwight requested it jokingly, but he did try. Though slightly relieved that the other was a healthier shade of alabaster, Jake couldn’t help but wonder about the wound he’d patched up. Jake _didn’t want_ to know that Claudette had doubled behind his back to check it, though she hadn’t said much of anything to him about it. Had he done a bad job, he would have known he figured. 

 

“Oh,” the four eyes adjusted his frames again, mindful of the cracked lens. “I think I’ll live, Jake. But thank you.” 

 

Saying something like _”I’ll live,”_ was horribly ironic in a place like this. “A place like this” was best defined as a place where all time stood still. A place where having to know spit could be used as an antiseptic was imperative. A place where being thrown onto a rusted meat hook was not the worst thing to happen to them physically. A place where kissing a man you barely knew made butterflies soar in your stomach to the point of making you lie to another person you barely knew because one was physically attractive.

 

“I guess if ‘yer still cold, you wanna use my hoodie?” 

 

Even though he _didn’t want_ to, Dwight smiled. “Maybe later?” He was cold and shivering from both blood loss and the cold, so the offer of a jacket sounded blissful. The thought of _Jake’s_ jacket sounded _ethereal._ “What was Meg laughing about? I’m sure someone on Mars didn’t quite hear her.”

 

This was awkward for Jake. Meg looked over at the sound of her name, but her head was tugged back into place to secure a braid. What Meg was laughing about was honestly quite obvious given the banter and _someone_ being called a square. Raising his eyebrows and biting his tongue so he didn’t lose it all over again, Jake’s boyish smile oozed a pool around them; it was even contagious. Narrow eyes scoured the area like a cougar on the prowl, and Jake could barely keep himself silent from giggling. It was like someone was tickling Jake’s feet constantly and he might have been close to wetting himself from lack of control. Jake almost acted like he was in a room full of people, and was fighting the urge to hoot because of embarrassment. What was so funny, Dwight didn’t know. Dwight pressed again for an answer, so Jake smacked his own cheeks to calm down. “She saw us under the tree.”

 

Dwight turned to look at Jake as far as his wound would let him, ready to ask why it was so funny to them. The four-eyes was ready to yell, unlike Claudette earlier, but the tanned man next to him patted his hand for reassurance. It was almost like he could tell Dwight was on an anxiety-driven rampage, ready to self deprecate himself into a shallow grave; which wasn’t uncommon.

 

“She wasn’t laughin’ _at_ you,” he tried to explain. Holding Dwight’s clumsy and clammy hand softened the expression Dwight had seemed to see numerous times tonight. “She just thought it was ‘adorable’.” The way Jake said that word made Dwight smirk under his breath. Jake had said it so tactlessly, like when a child learns a swear word from their older sibling. It just didn’t sound like a word he would ever use. Dwight would never say a college-level word, Claudette would never say less than a college-level word, and Meg would never use anything but Mid-Western slang. The word ‘adorable’ didn’t even seem like it would be in Jake’s vocabulary mostly because he was a dark and brooding kind of guy. He had swooned dramatically when he said it, even throwing a dirty sleeve across his forehead and messing his hair even more. 

 

“Adorable?” Dwight repeated skeptically.

 

“Maybe her braid was a little too tight, but yeah.” Their second kiss was Jake pecking the back of Dwight’s damp hand. “How’s ‘yer stomach feelin’?”

 

Dwight didn’t know how to respond to this. So he didn’t. 

 

Of all the things Dwight _hadn’t wanted_ to happen tonight, Jake sitting next to him and occasionally pecking his hand _wasn’t_ one of them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bam bam babes go to sleep finally
> 
> don't worry this isn't the end! I am gonna have one last little part to it but I gotta think of a snazzy name and file some things here at work and tomorrow is fridAAAY yesss

There were many things on Dwight’s mind, and there were just as many on Jake’s. 

 

An hour or so had passed that their hands played a game of pat-a-cake with the other’s. Claudette and Meg had since turned to their own business as they always did, each entertaining themselves. Now that Meg’s filthy hair was pulled away from her face, her arrogant and almost masculine grin kept her from getting any sleep. 

 

The active woman was stretching her arms and legs on the tree trunk Claudette was sitting on which highlighted every muscle making her look more and more like a Herculean hunk than a soft woman. Meg wasn’t unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. She was fit, firm, and had the personality of a young college kid with their head in the clouds--which caused her more harm than anything. Littering her muscular legs were hundreds of knicks and bruises that painted a picture of their current living situation. While a few were from bumping into a rock or being poked by a twig, more than half of her bumps and bruises were in thanks to her aforementioned attitude. 

 

While she stretched her legs to keep them in top shape as though she could run a marathon tomorrow, Claudette’s bony fingers were poking and prodding the freckled limb. Dwight nor Jake could count how many times Meg had been smacked or stepped into a trap that later showed a scar, or how many times Claudette _begged_ her to be more careful. It always fell on deaf, orange paint-splattered ears. Meg constantly vaulted her broad frame through a window an infinite amount of times to stall a pursuer, and it definitely showed. The young woman never outright said anything hurt; which was another inspiring part of her powerhouse energy. Meg never complained. She found the positive in everything. What part of her leg showed under her knee-length bicycle pants was torn to shreds; painful shreds at that. But no one ever heard her say anything about it. She wore them almost like tiger stripes her friends supposed. Like a trophy to show off that no maniac with a knife had ever caught her; and if they had, she escaped consistently. 

 

Looking back to his own doughy and pudgy frame, Dwight couldn’t help but be jealous of her confidence. Dwight obviously took the cake when it came to the ‘biggest injury from a homicidal maniac’, though that wasn’t something he was proud of. He’d gotten it one of their sleepless nights from a man who’s face always looked like another person’s, almost like a mask. The leathery mug tastelessly held together with surgical staples and smelling of rotting flesh. Eyes vacant like a possessed soul. When the bone-chilling sound of a chainsaw revved around the corner where Dwight had crammed himself, he could have sworn it was to his right; not his left. So he dove left. Needless to say it was the revving spiked blade that collided with his lower half mid-stride. It hadn’t even been a second, but the force and trauma had made him fall like some sadistic version of a cartoon. Dwight fell backwards with enough force that his legs flew over his head and he landed on his stomach; slamming the pouring gash into dirt and bits of stray metal. He’d let out this cry similar to nails on a chalkboard and thankfully drew attention of those around him. Before the pizzaboy could even lift his head, he was yanked up by the belt and carried away from his friends. Frantically, he threw his body in a gyrating motion with his arms swinging and legs desperate to hit either of the faces of the man carrying him. Dwight had bitten the rubbery flesh of the shoulder he was on, and nearly vomited in his mouth; but it had too thick of skin to feel it’s victim doing this. He screamed, kicked, pulled the straw-like hair, and even _bit_ ; but it hadn’t been enough. The filthy yellow butcher’s apron was the last thing he saw before being thrown to the ground effortlessly.

 

Even now, Dwight couldn’t understand why the butcher hadn’t thrown him on the hook like the prized catch he would have been. That was their normal routine, after all. While none of them had any physical marks on their shoulders, the phantom pain of a rusted spike was something they’d experienced more times than any human should have to. It always tore through their fresh like melted butter and came clean out the other side. Realistically, they were lucky that the weight of their bodies didn’t pull them down and yank the hook straight up through them---so they just shut their mouths.

 

“Dwight?” 

 

He jerked at the sound of his name, not realizing just how far away he’d drifted. Subconsciously, he placed a hand to his shredded abdomen and prayed for the discomfort to drift, too. “Hmm?”

 

“You...okay?”

 

By anyone’s definition of ‘okay’, Dwight was anything but ‘okay’. None of them were ‘okay’.

 

“Mmm’yeah.” He wiggled his hand out from under Jake’s just long enough to adjust himself perpendicular to the ground. “Just..thinking.”

 

“About that shit-face?” Jake almost sneered at the thought of what Dwight was thinking about. “I’m just glad he dropped’ya instead of---,”

 

“ _I know._ ”. Dwight didn’t mean to snap, but he didn’t want to hear the words “ _kill you…_ from the man holding his hand. “Thank you for coming back for me.”

 

That line was much more Dwight. He was sheepish in his thanks and didn’t look in any particular direction as he said it.

 

“You do that for us, idiot.”

 

Being called an ‘idiot’ was usually very insulting to one’s intelligence. To Dwight though, and especially from Jake, it was the exact opposite.

 

Dwight always did come back for his friends. There was no disputing that. No matter the case, the risk or even the odds, Dwight never left without trying to help. Nine times out of ten it was Meg who was lagging behind, taunting the man (or woman) wanting to kill them. But never once had Dwight put his own safety above another human being’s. He knew no life was more or less than another’s, and this is what made him a standalone in the group. Dwight was painfully altruistic. 

 

“Does it still hurt?”

 

Dwight nodded.

 

“Here.” Shifting in the mud as he yawned, Jake was able to remove his hoodie. All that remained was his burlap scarf on top of a ocre-colored thermal that seemed to be a size too big for him. No one around the fire had had a substantial meal in who knew how long, and it was beginning to subtly show. Not that anyone was skin and bones (Claudette was femininely svelte) but their faces were beginning to become visibly gaunt. At one time the thermal might have fit Jake like a glove, but now wasn’t that time. In a single but swift motion Jake threw the waterproof fabric around Dwight who was rubbing his arms to stay warm. It took awhile for the four-eyes to realize the notion, let alone anything behind it.

 

The fabric was dewey to the touch, most likely from his affinity for crawling through bushes as a “shortcut”, and it was tattered in a few places that could be fixed with a simple stitch. The jacket left a lot of wiggle room for Dwight, but it didn’t completely swallow him. Where it was comfortably a size big on Jake, it was a size and a half big on Dwight. Most of the jacket was for Jake’s shoulders which were much more chiseled and broad than his plump friend. Another reason it looked bigger on Dwight than it really was were the arms. Jake had arms like a giraffe’s neck, that extended far above his head to make him look almost half a foot taller. Dwight’s hands fell where Jake’s wrists did; so he looked more like a toddler in a mitten suit. Jake realized this and smiled warmly.

 

“Looks good on ‘ya.”

 

“Aren’t you cold?” Dwight ignored the smarmy smile that curled Jake’s eyes into glowing upside down moons. Secretly, he hoped the other didn’t want his jacket back…

 

Jake pursed his lips, lowered his brows and closed his eyes with a comical shake of his head. “Overheated.”

 

Dwight didn’t have an idea to why or how Jake could be overheated, though he just minded his own business. “Can I ask you something?”

He could have sworn he saw Jake’s eyes flutter shut, and he mumbled a pleasant, “mm..sure.”

 

What did he want to ask, exactly? Dwight didn’t even know. He had a million words on his mind that were jumping towards his tongue like hot peppers and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut much longer. The words were seering against his cheeks and the roof of his mouth. It felt like a million campfires and each one was the green kind of fire that lingers long after extinguished.His tongue was beginning to burn and twist around itself until it was almost swallowed. No matter how hard he bit his tongue or how much he wished the sweat would dry, a phrase jumped out he wished he could take back. “What are we?” 

 

Jake abandoned sleep as Claudette and Meg settled into their mud-beds, and they were the only two awake now. Dwight screwed his eyes shut so tight his glasses were shaking. 

 

“Uh,” Jake stammered. “Dwight and Jake?”

 

“I get that. But if I’m just Dwight and you are just Jake, why did we kiss and why am I wearing your coat like some high school girlfriend?”

 

“You want my class ring, too?”

 

Dwight’s eyes loosened enough to shoot a red hot gaze at the jokester who was removing his glove and offering it,too.

 

“Jake.”

 

“Okay, okay,” this laugh wasn’t contagious embarrassingly enough. Jake had always been able to smooth Dwight over with a callow snicker even before they’d kissed. The laugh had worked when Dwight stepped in a beartrap and was embarrassed that Jake had to piggy-back him to the door. The laugh had worked when Jake was trying to learn how to tie a tie from Dwight just in case he could get a date when they escaped this realm. The laugh had definitely worked numerous times tonight, so why not now? Still deadpan and waiting for his answer, Dwight wasn’t even smirking. With his face so flaccid, Jake could see the fine lines of exhaustion and hunger that ran under his eyes. Dwight wasn’t the only one with them, nor was he the only one aged by them. Jake could see every bit of where Dwight’s facial hair didn’t connect, and it looked like a blind Sunday school teacher taught him how to shave. It disheartened him to see his friend like this, and the only thing he could try to do to make him smile was answer him. Dwight didn’t look at Jake, nor did Jake look back at Dwight. The entire situation leaked of awkwardness that came with a love confession, but was that what that was? “I don’t think’a you as ‘just Dwight’...” Olive fingers came up to weave in his fluffy black mane. “I mean...you’re _Dwight_. I think about you all the time...I think?” He felt like he wanted to puke with every word. Usually Dwight was the one rambling like a dummy and Jake would shut him up. So why wasn’t Dwight shutting him up? “You save my ass a lot, and even if I am just sitting here in the mud, I always check to make sure ‘yer okay. And I always make sure ‘yer fine when you sleep.”

 

Dwight smiled a thin and microscopic line. His eyesbrows raised skeptically. “That’s weird, Jake.” Normally when someone heard they were watched when they slept, it would send chills up their spine like a dozen tiny spiders. Normally they’d want to confront the observer, but that wasn’t the case.

 

When backed in a corner like a carnivorous lion who hadn’t eaten in weeks, Jake was known to sometimes get very physical. Unromantically, Jake balled his fingers into a fist and took a playful whack at the shoulder of the man wearing his jacket. “I know it is.” The tanned and usually silent man was slightly louder than normal, and his hands moved sporadically, indicating frustration. “I don’t know why I like watching you when you sleep. I don’t know why your Buddy Holly glasses make me smile. I don’t know why I gave you my jacket. I don’t know why I wanted to kiss you, either!”

 

Jake was frantic at this point, waving his hands in a wild whirlwind while Dwight just sat there. Their roles were reversed in this moment, and Dwight had trouble thinking of what Jake would do in a situation like this. Far too many times was Dwight a panicked mess throwing his arms around in an exaggerated motion, while Jake waited it out. But with _Jake_ being the one to be emotionally distraught, Dwight figured he could just wait it out, too? He was sure he’d wake up the girls if he kept rambling on about why he didn’t know this or that about Dwight, so the pizzaboy decided to calm the situation down as best as he knew how. Like Jake would; with a laugh. “You know Buddy Holly died, right?” Dwight didn’t want to remind Jake of a dead man.

 

Three of his calloused fingers slowly came to Jake’s lips in a shushing motion. Dwight’s caterpillar eyebrows were raised sympathetically and face twisting from pain as he shifted to sit on his legs. Jake was the sweaty one this time and when he finally stopped rambling a million words a minute, he breathed heavy to catch his breath. “I’m confused.” Still, he didn’t look at Dwight. Grazing those chocolate freckles, Dwight had to squint to see a pink flush. It was not Jake at all..

 

“It’s okay,” Dwight offered, almost sounding more like a question than a statement. 

 

Jake’s head dropped back to look up at the sky that hadn’t changed in the few hours they’d last checked. “It’s hell here.” The air was thin and a breeze was beginning to nip at his ears that promised rain was coming, but he couldn't tell when. Dwight nodded in agreement, now holding both of his hands, hoping for him to keep talking and answer his question. “And when I know that something could happen to me or you guys, it scares the shit ‘outta me. But knowing that ‘yer gonna be here to yell at me for something dumb really makes me feel like I might be okay.”

 

Neither of the males could bring themselves to look at each other. The rain was beginning to pick up a steady pace now, though it wasn’t enough to stir the two sleepers awake. A few drips fell around the men sitting in the cold mud they wished would suck them up and away, but none seemed to hit a single hair on their heads. It smelled similar to the cold breeze with the underlying scent of burnt wood and as it flooded the growing space between them, time passed faster than it ever had. Dwight held Jake’s hand and hadn’t moved them enough that his fingers had fallen asleep and he had to wiggle them in the gaps of Jake’s fingers to wake them up. Hopefully Meg nor Claudette wiggled to wake up either..

 

“Say something, Dwight.” The words were broken in desperation, bouncing like his leg and spiking like he was choking on something wet. This was the most Jake had ever spoken, let along to _Dwight_ so he wasn’t sure what to say.

 

“Jake,” Dwight finally found the word. The man across from him looked down and his entire spine melted like ice cream on a hot sidewalk when he heard his name. “Let’s just forget about a label. It’s just a word..”

 

Quizically, Jake’s furry eyebrows bounced up. It was hard to see under the tumbleweed he called hair, and Dwight groaned at the mess.

 

“If we are too wrapped up in _what we are_ , we might lose sight of making it out of here.” Dwight didn’t want to let go of Jake’s hands, but he did. When the bond broke, Jake dejectedly shoved his gloved hands towards his jacket pocket; but failed. Dwight still had the coat on and while Jake could still bury his head in the scarf, he placed his instead had hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. It wasn’t until now that Jake realized one thing. It was __

“Mhm.” Jake didn’t sound like he agreed with any part of this plan. “Friendzone?” 

Dwight could barely hear the voice because Jake was talking into his scarf. The tanned man was purposefully sinking in to himself to either avoid confrontation, or to just change the subject. The way he shifted his weight on his bottom was an anxious movement, and inside his pockets he was beginning to tear the frayed hem. Eventually the seam would rip and he wouldn’t have a working pocket, though he wasn’t worried about that. 

_Dwight offered a forced chuckle as he, too, shifted on his bottom. “No,” at this, Jake’s eyes barely skimmed above the fabric of his burlap scarf. It was dark enough, and his hair was long enough, that Dwight didn’t see the man peering at him the way an alligator looked above water. “This…,” he motioned a hand between the two of them, “Is just a...uhm…”_

"A perk?” Jake’s chocolate eyes were finally visible through the mop of curly hair. His voice was less deadpan than it usually sounded. 

Dwight agreed quickly. “A perk.” 

Dwight was right when he said they needed to focus on themselves escaping the trials thrown at them. They never got any easier, nor did anyone expect them to. And the idea of a romantic relationship starting after a few weeks could definitely gum up the works. Anyone who has ever been in love knows how distracting the first few stages can be. The constant thought of the one you love often clouds the mind and moral compass, making one do things (or not do things) that is far from their character. In the face of life or death as much as they were, distractions needed to be minimalized; no matter how tempting. The beginning of this relationship started under a dying tree left a lot to be desired, though Jake and Dwight were sure the other wouldn’t change a thing. And that was what was going to happen now. Nothing would change. 

_Nothing would change._

After a trial, everyone would return to the fire. 

The fire would be maintained by a scheduled routine of going to find sticks. 

The sticks would prolong the fire they would then sit by for hours and hours, waiting for sleep to grace them. 

_~_

A short time later, the pull on either man’s eyelids was far too intense to ignore any longer. Claudette was still, Meg tossed and turned violently, and both of the remaining campers could see the fire dwindling. It was like a clock, in a way. The height of the flame was highest when they returned from a trial and after the few sticks were added, it’s life began to drop as the night wore on. It was its lowest when only one person fought to stay awake, though that was solely Jake’s observation. As he had admitted earlier, he watched Dwight sleep; and with Dwight always being third to lie down, that left only him. 

Dwight yawned first, pulling his glasses off in a familiar movement and placing them a few feet away. He was lying down in the dirt by the time Jake saw him, breathing in the most peaceful rhythm Jake had seen from a guy with a chainsaw wound to the stomach. His inhales and exhales matched a steady beat similar to someone who had come home after a long day at work and was settling down in bed with the one they loved and maybe a dog or cat at the foot of the bed. Dwight had told them all about his cat numerous times, and somehow without him having to say it, everyone just _knew_ he was the kind of of guy who lived alone with a cat. 

What would Dwight do when they finally made it out of here, Jake wondered? Where would he go? Jake had learnt a bit about the man tonight, but none of that information answered his questions. What he knew about the other was a large accumulation of facts and quirks; all unique and endearing, but still left him in the dark. Dwight always talked about how he loved to work, so maybe that would be what he did? Get right back to making pizzas and eating too many? Jake could very easily believe that. He could see the portly brunet returning to work like nothing had happened, ready to make up for however many weeks he’d lost by sacrificing all of his hours to be a pepperoni slave. It upset Jake to think about how this entire fiasco would roll of Dwight’s back and nothing would change. Dwight had always been like that; at least for the time that he’d grown to know him. Sure the four-eyes could get flustered, but it was always strictly emotional. He never was the kind to hold a grudge against anyone or anything - not even here. With half of his stomach looking like Thanksgiving leftovers, Dwight didn’t seem angry at the monster that did it. Sure there was no point and nothing would come of it, but Jake didn’t see how. The woman that threw axes had tried to throw one at Jake one time and missed, though he still held it as a personal vendetta!! And he didn’t even get hit!! The thought of just where Dwight would go after all this loomed around Jake’s head for a while, and he finally realized just how _alone_ the kid was. 

The reason why he talked about the same things over and over was slowly becoming more and more clear to Jake. He didn’t talk about his cat all the time because he was a spazz. He didn’t talk about work all the time because he was obsessed with his paycheck. He didn’t say much about family when the topic came up. _That’s all he has._ A cat and a job. That was Dwight. 

Arguably, Jake didn’t have much more. 

Jake looked over to steal a glance at the man running through his mind and sighed with relief to see he was turned to face him and took the jacket off to use it as a blanket. It only covered his shoulders and down to his belt line, though Dwight always pulled his legs in when he slept. Jake was able to close his eyes finally. Behind those dark and heavy bags, all he could see was what currently was above him; blackness. The pressure of an arm resting across him immediately snapped them back open with adrenaline ready to swing. Thank the stars he didn’t. 

“I miss my bed,” Dwight mumbled in a sleepy stupor, eyes squinted so narrow to focus on Jake. He was fuzzy, but that was just the man’s hair. 

This conversation was bitingly familiar, Jake knew. 

Dwight was barely understandable at this point, but spoke again. “...or that you would’a found a blanket when you went to find Meg..” 

Resting his arm on his jacket Dwight had managed to cover the both of them with, their eyes fluttered shut in unison. “Once we get outta here,” the usually quiet man whispered, “...I’ll get’cha that blanket.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> circumcised
> 
> haha I know this one is weak but I am so fucking hungry right now

Part uno

 

“I thought you meant for this to happen?”

 

“I didn’t, and now we’re gonna die.”

 

Only slightly exaggerating, Jake and Dwight were slowly finding themselves in deep shit.

 

The two had been working on a generator when they heard Meg’s voice cry out in distress. Her wail rolled through the field like a tractor, and even though neither of the men could see her, they knew she’d been grabbed. They knew they had to do something. 

 

In an attempt to sway the woman who was pulling their friend to her doom, Jake purposefully touched the two wires in his hands together and created a small explosion from the generator. Dwight was on the other side , ready to scold Jake for not paying attention, and Jake assured him it wasn’t an accident. Jake had touched the two electric currents in an attempt to draw the woman’s attention away from the athlete, almost like baiting a line for a fish.

 

He just didn’t expect her to actually bite.

 

Meg had been able to free herself like always, and before Jake or Dwight could celebrate that their distraction had worked, a rusty hatchet collided with the metal machine just feet in front of their faces. The sound echoed through the metal drum with a high pitched _tum!_ that rattled Dwight and caused Jake to curse loudly.

 

That was what lead them to their current scenario. Tucked between plastic drums full of liquid and some bales of hay. Jake was physically bigger than Dwight, so when Jake had found the hiding hole a stone’s throw from their nearly-finished generator, he wasted no time intercepting Dwight as he ran by. Jake’s force had been enough to cause Dwight to huff out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Had Dwight not been running from the haunting lullaby the maniac was humming, he would have thought a football player tackled him. Jake was crouching against one of the oil drums with feet flat on the floor (he looked like a hawk ready to take off in flight) where Dwight was pulled against his chest with one of Jake’s legs on either side of him. “We’re not gonna die,” Jake finally spoke, firmly squeezing Dwight’s shoulder. “Just shut up.”

 

Dwight winced at Jakes words not because they hurt -this was just Jake’s nature- but because he was genuinely _afraid_. Jake was always the composed one when it came to situations like this, so Dwight was growing less and less comfortable throwing his trust into this man. Dwight was pulled against Jake’s chest hard enough that he could feel every beat of the saboteur’s heart which was uncharacteristically racing a million miles a minute. It felt like someone was beating on Dwight’s back with clenched fists; someone like a large woman hiding behind a velveteen mask wielding a large axe and a utility belt of smaller axes. In the faint yellow moonlight cast across the cold farm, Dwight looked up long enough at Jake to see his brows furrowed down into one. Jake’s jaw was locked and his tongue poked against his cheek. Dwight knew this expression all too well, and found himself slowly leaning into it like he always did. The looming sound of the lullaby (growing deeper and more irritated as their purser sang) was drowned out in this one instance of serenity. Jake looked sternly focused on whatever was on his mind, like a student studying before exams. It darkened his chocolate eyes that were narrowed to the point of being closed, and Dwight wanted nothing more than to drop his head back and rub his forehead on the sandpaper stubble that he had been staring at every single night. This was a look Dwight had seen numerous times in their time together, and it meant one of two things. Either Jake was thinking of a plan, or Jake was thinking of a plan that _wouldn’t work_. Considering his first plan of causing a distraction for Meg had backfired horribly, Dwight decided to speak up.

 

“I didn’t think she’d actually come over here.” His voice was straining to stay above a whisper. “We need to get outta this spot..I heard her humming, and---”

 

“ _Shit!!_ ” Jake was ripped from his thoughts by the small bits of plastic flying towards his face. Reflexively he ducked down, pulling Dwight with him.

 

This woman, a sub-par huntress, was no longer humming now that she’d found her prey. Her smile revealed a sea of decayed and chipped teeth, like a child who never had to brush them. Sandwiched between two pieces of farmwork, she could see not one, but _two_ defenseless delicacies ready to be butchered. The woman wrinkled her nose in excitement and drew in a large breath and pulled her arm back to throw another hatchet. This made the third one, and she was determined to not miss like the other two.

 

In the span of ten seconds, Dwight had ungracefully escaped the confined space with Jake. The two had concocted a wordless plan, and it was the best they could think of under this much pressure. The oil drums were at least eighty pounds each and with either of them pushing, it fell and toppled to the ground with ease----straight onto their huntress’ bare feet. The shriek she let out after blindly throwing her hatchet was almost like a hurt puppy; followed by the vocals of a child’s tantrum. Had she not been trying to execute them after this series of events, Dwight would have doubled back to make sure she was okay. 

 

The third and fourth axes missed either of the boys with plenty of room to spare, so when the woman hurled a fifth and final time, it caught either of the men off guard. Running in a straight line was not their best idea it seemed, because the projectile whipped straight between them and landed inches in front of them in the dirt. Dwight had shrieked and broke away from their linear path and Jake followed,too.

 

“We are harder to hit if we keep turning,” Dwight called over his shoulder to Jake. 

 

In that one sentence, Dwight’s face shifted from pressing panic to pure anger.

With this seven foot tall amazonian rabbit on their asses and throwing axes at a machine-gun pace, Jake was not worried at all. He was running for his life, yes, but the saboteur was not panicked like Dwight. He was not breathing heavy like Dwight. He was not mentally writing an obituary like Dwight.

 

Because he was laughing. 

 

Dwight rounded a corner sharply and caught himself on his palms. “You think I’d be more in shape with all this running, Jake.” He looked over his shoulder. “Jake?”

 

Jake was too proud to have just followed Dwight. Too proud to just leave the sub-par axe thrower alone. Dwight mumbled a swear under his breath and shimmied to look around the corner of the wooden pallet he was resting under.

 

Meg and Jake must have switched personalities today. It was just the three of them now which put a pressure on the scenario, and angered Dwight more at what he saw. He just wished he could say he was surprised.

 

Usually Meg was the one who toyed with the maniac’s mind. She was the one who would run through the same window five times and slam a pallet like this on their face. She was the one who made it look easy and almost fun. Not Jake. When Jake did it, Dwight found himself worried to the point of vomiting because he knew Jake didn’t have the same stamina as the redhead. Over the hay bales and dilapidated machinery Dwight could hear Jake’s boyish laugh and it sounded more like he were at an amusement park than being chased with a blade. 

 

“Aw!” He could hear Jake giggle as he vaulted over a low stone fence. “You almost circumcised me on that one!!” From where he was crouched, Dwight could see Jake running around in an infinite circle as the woman’s lullaby hummed darker and loomed over their heads like a storm cloud. 

 

Any other time, Dwight would have scolded the phallic talk, but a rough grab on his shoulder made him gasp and swing around in a circle. The hand was sweaty like his own and aided him in turning around and for the first time all night, he was happy to see someone other than Jake.

 

It was Meg. She was sitting on her legs feet from Dwight and had had better days. Her face was covered in weeds from the cornfield and her hair stuck out on all ends from various straws of hay, and she was bleeding from her eyebrow. It dripped down in a single stream until it curved around her square jaw where a bruise was slowly forming. Dwight swallowed hard. That could be Jake if he didn’t do something. If he didn’t intervene…

 

“Shh,” Meg put a calloused finger to her cracked lips and smiled mischievously. In a _’look what I found’_ motion, she brought her left hand up to reveal what made Dwight’s eyes brighter than the yellow moon in the sky.

“I don’t know what it goes to,” Meg began.

 

“I do.”

 

Dwight grabbed the item from Meg’s hand and waved it between their faces. His light eyes were curled in a smile that made him forget about Jake’s taunting, and Meg’s were bright with anticipation.

 

“This is our ticket out of here. Where the hell’d you get this?”

 

“I dunno.” Meg shrugged. “I was looking for a flashligh ‘er somethin’, and I found this stupid thing.”

 

“Oh, no,” Dwight shook his head, mouth opening and ready to lecture. Meg knew this expression better than Jake did, and rolled her green eyes at what was to come. The way Dwight held the piece of metal between his fingers was similar to a scientist holding a vial. “This isn’t stupid. Meg, do you know what this unlocks?” He didn’t give her a second to answer. “We need to find that trap door thing.”

 

As though a hatchet was thrown at her face, Meg jumped up with a renewed vigor. Without words, Dwight knew Meg was ready to lead him to their escape.

 

Both Dwight and Meg safely rose to their feet and she began to lead the way. “We can’t leave Jake.”

 

“Yes we can.”

 

“Meg!”

 

The redhead crouched back to the ground with Dwight in tow. “You see him out there? He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. We need to go.”

 

And so they went. Lady Luck was smiling upon the leader and his athletic friend. Dwight had unlocked the trap door hidden in the field with hesitation, and left with even more, though he was persuaded by Meg. If Jake was confident enough to joke about his dick, he would be fine.


	9. The Waiting is the Hardest Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whATS UP YALL I'm back back back back back again

Tonight was turning into one of those nights that Dwight knew all too well. Tonight had turned into ‘one of those nights’ where he refused to do anything but pace back and forth from the brush of trees he’d run through with Meg. They’d just narrowly escaped the sharp end of a humming woman’s blade, but had been forced to make a quick -and equally tough- decision that Dwight regretted more than his brainiac mind could formulate. Meg and Dwight had been able to save themselves, but at the expense of leaving Jake behind. _Jake.._ Shaking his head as if it helped clear his mind, the brunet continued walking the short circuit between the trees and dug his heels firmer in the dirt with each lap. The leader was adamant to not leave the rut he’d run in the dirt because half of their group was still missing. No matter how many times Meg bargained for him to come sit by the fire, Dwight acted like he didn’t hear her. His light brown eyes were darkening from the fear of lost hope, and he couldn’t even look to the stars for help. All he saw above them, and even below them, was pure blackness. It was spooky almost, though he’d recently grown somewhat unaffected to it. 

It was also one of those nights where Dwight constantly scanned the shrubbery for any sign of movement like the hungry animal he was. He was only growing hungrier and hungrier as time wore on. Metaphorically and literally, Dwight’s stomach was rumbling for anything to satiate it. Had his mind not been whirling like a tornado in summer, the pizza boy would have thought it strange that he felt a literal hunger for the first time in weeks. Since entering this…. _dimension_ , these kind of experiences weren’t something any of the survivors had felt. Jake, Claudette, Meg, and Dwight had all talked about the disturbing dread that came with the absence of hunger, hygiene, and aging, but it was difficult to cope with. While a few of the group seemed to not be too bothered, Dwight couldn’t help but wonder why? Wonder why he didn’t feel hunger for weeks, and why it was suddenly creeping back up? There was a slight glimmer of hope sparkling in his eyes at the idea crawling into his mind. 

_What if it means we’re close to freedom?_

Dwight didn’t know what ‘freedom’ even alluded to in a place like this. It could mean escaping and returning back to how life was before all this mess, but it could also be a release of something more spiritual…

“Dwight?” The voice speaking his name was cutely tremulous. It wasn’t steady and it wasn’t proud, but it was genuine and warm. It was Meg, and it was the first sound in hours. “A watched pot never boils…” The athlete, once so confident and loud, seemed to carry herself on a different weight today, almost like she were wearing someone else’s shoes. 

Before he could respond, Dwight’s voice sputtered in his throat like a rusty boat motor. No sound came out aside from a wheeze, and the smile on Meg’s face almost melted the humility. It was trapped in his throat either from unease or having not been used in a while, so it gave him enough time to listen to what Meg had to say. His nerves were always so wrought and shot with worry that he often found himself impulsively interrupting, but not this time. Maybe it was because, “You are right,” the man complained. “It’s just…” the small man’s entire body turned with his hand when he pointed to the intimidating mass of leaves surrounding them. “I can’t help but think we did the wrong thing.”

There wasn’t anything Meg could say to agree or disagree with his statement, because no matter her own opinion, she had to be there for her companion. This was something Claudette had been trying to teach Meg for a while now, and while she was gone, Meg figured that empathy was her safest bet. It had been Meg’s idea to leave, though it wasn’t necessarily her intention to leave Jake behind. There was room to argue that her abrasive personality was to blame for the impulsive decision without so much as a second thought, and the ginger knew that. So, she just reached out for Dwight’s sweaty palm and pulled it back to his sides. Freckled fingers wrapped around Dwight’s clammy wrist, clamping down and pulling it away from the woods behind them. Through just that brief touch, Meg was experiencing something that shot through the tips of her fingers, straight down her arm, and right into her chest. It was a cold feeling that immediately grew hot; like she stuck her hand into a boiling pot of water. Her spine chilled, then melted at the feeling, and her eyebrows flattened. They were an upside-down half moon shape and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I know…” What she was showing was empathy. Empathy for Dwight.

“Dwight,” the athlete easily urged the man away and pulled him to the dim fire where they sat down. Meg threw herself into the dirt with a loud huff. “All we can do is wait.”

“Wait,” Dwight repeated, and Meg nodded.

As if the passage of time weren’t already standing still, it seemed to halt between the athlete and the pizza-boy. There was no longer a breeze to nip at their ears. No leaves fell from the trees. The fire didn’t move or crackle like it normally did, nor did it have a scent. The moon was either waxed or waned, but without Claudette to tell them, the duo didn’t even have a guess. 

_Shit._

Dwight dropped his head into his palms and his fingers bent like claws into his hairline. The thought of the woman always made Dwight smile with how full of knowledge she was. Claudette was the kind of woman who had always offered the jacket off her back even if it meant she’d freeze. She had shown herself to be not only compassionate and empathetic, but learned and composed. There were times she could have scolded any of the others for making a common sense mistake but she never did..instead she just corrected them like they were children and she was their mother. But now? Without her here, Dwight couldn’t help but feel abandoned. There was a conflict of emotions slamming his brain like a screen door in a storm, and he couldn’t tell how he felt. He felt abandoned because Claudette wasn’t here. It was quiet. It was sorrowful. It was his fault. How could he be so careless as to lose two friends in one night?

“They’ll come back.” Almost as if she had some telekinetic power, Meg spoke carefully. Dwight nearly jumped out of his skin when Meg looked at him, because it was an eerie coincidence. She had patted his leg in an effort to show her shared emotions, and when he looked back at her, her voice felt more like a reminder than a wish. As she looked at the man to her right, Meg realized for the first time tonight how distraught he was. Not that she wasn’t equally shredded, it wasn’t the same emotion, and Meg was desperate to understand it. There was a brief silence between the two, and it felt like an eternity to Meg. She took full advantage to find a way to comfort the other.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew Dwight cared about Jake more than a companion should. She had seen the way they went out of their way to sit next to each other. She had noticed the few times they were seen touching shoulders or legs. She had even seen the brief kiss under the tree, and thinking about it caused her face to flush crimson. It wasn’t any of her business if Dwight liked Jake or if he liked Dwight back, but she couldn’t help the initial curiosity that came with it. Her calloused hand was still resting on the other’s dirty jeans and she didn’t raise her head until she spoke again. “You care about him, don’t you?”

Her tone was neither pointed nor interrogating. Like everything else she’d done tonight, it was welcoming. 

Dwight hadn’t paid much attention in the silence. While Meg was developing herself into a teammate Claudette could be proud of, Dwight couldn’t stop thinking about where Jake was. What Jake was doing. If he was okay. When Meg did speak, the normally anxious man scratched the back of his neck and patted Meg’s hand with his other hand. “I guess you could say that….why’re you asking, Meg?”

As she stated earlier, Meg wasn’t stupid. And she wasn’t blind. She could see the way Dwight’s brown eyes turned like gears in a machine for a vague answer, and the redhead chuckled inwardly. “Jake was talking to me the other day--,”

“What’d he say?” The impulsive interrupting was returning, and Meg knew she was on the right path with this ‘genuine friendliness’ thing.

She brushed a loose lock away from her face and wrinkled her nose in a laugh. “He said that he thinks you smell funny.” Maybe she wasn’t getting the hang of the friendliness thing after all, but she was trying. Meg just...had a different sense of humour from Claudette. She actually had one. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Fairfield. I’m just joking. He was just saying that the night he took you over to the tree was the best he’d felt in a while and,---”

“I’m think I’m gonna go keep watch on the bushes again. Excuse me, Meg.” Dwight politely excused himself with a nervous giggle and patted Meg’s head as he walked away. 

He didn’t know if Meg was telling the truth about talking to Jake or if she was just pulling his leg, but either way, it made him feel a certain way. It made his heart flutter to no one’s surprise, and caused the corners of his lips to turn up in a goofy grin that was almost invisible. Behind his glasses his eyes grew heavier and heavier until keeping them open was as much a reflex as blinking. The thought of the two talking about Dwight was enough to raise his chest and shoulders a little higher as he paced, and even if he didn’t know whether those things were really said, he finally discovered what feeling he felt. It was something he felt for the first time since Meg pulled him back to the fire.

Dwight felt like he’d get to ask Jake himself very shortly.


	10. Chapter 10

I'm back!! I'll be posting roughly the first day of november to kick of NaNoWriMo!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wild claudette disconnected haha rank 20 gg ez

In times of uncertainty, it isn’t uncommon for one to overthink the smallest of occurrences. For example, on the drive to their dead-end pizza store, one might worry they left the stove on and that their house could go up in flames. This same person might also exaggerate that because their cat didn’t eat breakfast that she must have some disease. Thirdly, this same person might worry themselves into vomiting out of fear that the one friend they had was strung up by his heels in some god-forsaken dungeon because he was a few minutes late returning to their camp. By now, it’s not a mystery that this man was (and is) Dwight Fairfield..the man sitting in a cold mountain of mud waiting on said friend to return.

There were many things Dwight didn’t know, such as how to shave without getting cut, and why he never went to college. But the question he didn’t have an answer to was for how long he’d considered Jake his “friend”. Or even the other way around. Dwight could confidently say that in the short time he’d grown attached to Jake, the man was a loner. It was by his own choice, because as much as Dwight enjoyed his jovial personality, Jake had the social skills of an illiterate teenager. 

There were numerous times that Dwight and Claudette would reprimand him for his butchering of the english language, and he never seemed to change. Jake was stubborn and stern (like the ass he was) though there was something almost....endearing..about the way he just rolled his eyes. Dwight would remind Jake that the phrase was “could have” and not “could of”. Eye roll. Claudette endlessly lectured him that there were a million adjectives he could use rather than “fuck”. Eye roll. Jake was told time and time again that “supposebly” was not a word. A shrug. Above all else, Dwight’s personal favorite was the pronunciation of his name. Single syllable names like Meg’s and Jake’s were easy. It seemed that whatever charmingly rugged accent Jake had made Dwight’s name difficult for him to say. Almost like he had a drawl or lazy tongue. The times Dwight had noticed it were few and far between, mostly because it didn’t bother him enough to remember. It was something he felt put a star above his head and singled him out in Jake’s mind. To Dwight, it was a cute little niche that made him unlike the other two. In an accent formed by both his Taiwanese upbringing and boyish aversion to education, Dwight’s name became two syllables.

Jake said “Duh-White.”

Now, ‘Duh-White’ wasn’t insulted in the slightest. Whereas some would be irritated or offended that something like their name was said incorrectly, ‘Duh-White’ shrugged his shoulders. To him, there were other things to worry about. In the grand scheme of facing death every night without a moment for safety, a mispronunciation of his name took a backburner. 

Tonight though, he wasn’t feeling like ‘Duh-White’. He felt like _Dwight_. And without Jake here to mispronounce it, Dwight was feeling lonely. Isolated. Fearful.

While no one could be certain of how much time had passed, the moon had journeyed halfway across the sky before Jake returned. When he returned, Dwight and Meg were sitting by what was left of their fire, their backs touching to lean against the other and they were having a pleasant conversation. Seeing the two alone and keeping the other company was new to Jake. Meg and Dwight were as similar as cats and dogs. Hell, Meg was the kind of person that probably shoved Dwight in lockers in high school! Meg’s head had been dropped against Dwight’s and her eyes were lidded shut. While her mouth was moving and Dwight occasionally nodded to show he was listening, Jake could see that it was more to keep himself awake. Never had he seen Meg or Dwight so much as wave to the other, and now they were supporting the other’s weight so neither had to have their head in the mud. It was almost human..and in a place like this, it was refreshing to see. They had been debating space captains when Jake had quietly returned, offering a hushed “Nerds,” under his breath. When he’d mumbled this, Meg and Dwight had simultaneously jumped from their perches and greeted their tardy pal. Meg and Dwight jumped to their feet as though they could have broken into a sprint away from a chainsaw. Either of them looked like they’d just seen a ghost, and they were glad that they hadn’t. The two rapidly rose to their feet and latched themselves around the taller man. Meg had wrapped her freckled arms around Jake’s waist and pinned his arms against his sides. Meg’s arms were broad and sculpted from her athleticism; even if Jake had wanted to wiggle, he physically couldn’t. The ginger’s grasp was tight like a vice grip when someone had an upset stomach, and there was no wiggling free. Dwight hastily wrapped around Meg to secure the lock. Jake had been momentarily immobilized by the athlete and pizza-boy, and if he was honest, it was something he could get used to. He didn’t even realize there were just three of them.

“We were so worried about you!” Meg laughed, her booming voice almost paining both men’s ears. Her tomboyish snort was contagious, and Jake found himself smiling as well. It was uncharacteristic for either of them. Jake hardly smiled and Meg hardly showed affection, though everything boiled back down to one common denominator: looming death. The uncertainty of when or where this threat could strike often caused them to act differently.

The three stayed in the friendly embrace for a few moments before Meg slumped back to the ground. The mud was chilly and had the consistency of dough, so she felt more like she was sitting in quicksand rather than dirt. There was an annoying tingling on her spine that caused her to wince if she leaned too far forward or back. It was shooting down like a bolt of lighting, breaking off in subsets until it reached down both of her legs clear into her shoes. The mushy mud was strangely cushioning to her back which was strained from activity, and as she sat by herself to leave Jake and Dwight alone, Meg’s face shifted drastically. Once bright and sunny, her expression was darkening. Slowly, her face was becoming a grey storm cloud until she was frowning. It was dark and barren, almost a blank canvas. She’d floated miles away from consciousness, but her eyes stayed open. The bruises littering her face as frequently as her freckles were much more visible when she leaned into the fire. Her scabbed elbows rested on her knees and she sighed. The blemishes stretched across her forehead and cheeks; past her cut lip and almost around her neck like a scarf. The ginger was too tired to keep her posture straight, but not tired enough to lie down to sleep. She was in too much pain to move, but not enough to complain.She was lonely, but not enough to feel lost. 

Jake was the first one to break the suffocating silence. “There’s only three of us..” It was said more like a keynote speech than a question or statement. It felt like there was more he had to say, but the despondent expressions of the other two stopped him in his tracks. Dwight was showing a profound helplessness that was greater than usual, pitying the redheaded woman rather than himself. 

“Yeah, we know,” Dwight’s tone was somewhere between irritated and empathetic. Dwight wasn’t dumb; he knew that it was quieter than normal tonight. There was someone missing from their trio, but he didn’t know why. Meg had mentioned something offhandedly, though she seemed alarmingly aloof to it all. Jake’s eyes wandered over to Meg and lingered long enough that Dwight had to pull his arm back to reality. “We haven’t seen Claudette.”

“At all?”

“At all.”

The two stood side by side for a while, not communicating at all. Between them were their hands, inches away from the other. Between them, they had the intelligence of a highschooler. Between them, it was dead quiet. It wasn’t a stiff silence like when someone says something embarrassing. It wasn’t awkward silence as though someone asked a stupid question. It was calming silence like answering that question. It was a comfortable silence. And god, was it refreshing.

Jake couldn’t take it much longer and turned his head to Dwight. The four eyes was staring up at the sky as though it were something he’d never seen before. The way the shorter man had his head back seemed unhuman, because it allowed every bone in his neck to show against his skin. All of them had grown so thin and gaunt that bones beginning to show were the norm. Jake tried to tug Dwight’s hand to pull him out of the clouds, but the other didn’t respond. His eyes were half lidded pools of chocolate while he stared way up high, and Jake couldn’t help but smirk. He could see every curve of the bags under Dwight’s eyes just as clearly as he could see the crack in his glasses. Dwight was subtly shivering to keep warm, too. And God..did Jake just want to take him away from all of this.

Something was on Dwight’s mind, but what? Jake looked up to the sky, too, and he didn’t see anything unusual. So why were Dwight’s eyes so narrow? Why was his mouth a straight line? Why were his knees locked? What was it he was looking for..? The silence was so long that Jake almost thought he’d gone deaf; so he spoke to confirm he hadn’t. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Hmm?” It sounded like Dwight didn’t understand english. He dropped his head dropped back into place and he pushed his glasses back on his nose. “I guess I was stargazing.”

“Oh, Me-Gazing?”

“Shut the hell up,” Dwight let out a laugh that made the two almost forget about Meg and Claudette altogether. But the laugh was as short as a mouse’s eyelash and it fell flat. 

It wasn’t long before the two parked themselves on a tree stump next to Meg. She was still wide awake yet so zoned out she seemed like a carcass of herself. Dwight and Jake called her name three times before she responded, and her head turned so fast her braid almost smacked her in the face. She made a “hm?” motion, but nothing came out. It was silent again. And this one was far from comfortable.

Since Jake’s return to the fire, the moment felt anything but celebratory. It had been happy for a brief moment, but it was gone in a flash and paled to the next looming question: Claudette. The botanist was missing in action. It was uncanny of her.

Jake offered an option as the man next to him nodded. “We should get some sleep.”

Dwight seconded the motion with a nod and droop of his eyes.

Meg nodded in agreement as Jake and Dwight got comfortable, though she stayed awake. Her athletic mind was running on adrenaline as she hugged her knees to her chest, feeling lost without someone to pay in her orange hair. Her green eyes trained on the decayed forestry in front of her, waiting for the slightest sign of movement. Meg became a hungry vulture waiting on a helpless pigeon to pass. 

“Meg?” Dwight looked up from his spot in the mud. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved his words off. “Cool it, four-eyes. I’m staying up ‘till Claudette gets here.”

Defeated and dejected, Dwight didn’t dare offer his skepticism. 

Meg would be awake for the rest of her life.


End file.
